Those Things You Said
by Alternatively
Summary: If that kiss had never happened... An alternative Ron-and-Hermione get together. Post-battle.


"No, Harry's sharing with Ginny," said Hermione firmly, "I'll bunk in with you."

Ron blinked. _What? Why? Argh, I'm too tired for this. Uh, what does it matter anyway…_

"Ok. Sure. Whatever."

A flash of annoyance darted across Hermione's face, almost instantly replaced with exhaustion. It seemed she was too tired to argue too.

"Do they know?" He said.

"Yes."

"Oh." Ron paused. Bed time. Really, that was the next thing.

He looked down at Hermione. She looked… deflated. Ordinarily, her personality filled space, but tonight… she looked tired. And little. And… so vulnerable.

Hideous flashes of Malfoy Manor screamed in his mind. He took a sharp breath and pressed his fingers to his eyes.

"I don't know if it would be more tiring to apparate or walk up the stairs," he said, by way of distracting himself.

She gazed up at him.

"Better walk. Too dangerous to splinch. I mean- you know what I mean. I'm tired."

"Yes,"

God she was so small. With such _big_ hair. He almost smiled. It was all clean and fluffy now- though there was a big chunk missing where Ginny had cut out a burnt section. He knew an impulse to touch it.

"Stairs then,"

"Yes,"

They started climbing. Stairs creaking. Joints creaking. There was definitely something wrong with his left knee. The stabbing pain dulled the ache from his overworked muscles.

He pushed open the door.

 _Oh great._

The camp bed sat, folded haphazardly, in a tangle of bedding in the corner.

Ron sighed.

He felt Hermione's small hand on his back.

"Don't," she said

 _What?_

He turned to look at her.

She gave a slight shrug and glanced over to his bed, and then back to him.

Silence seemed to stretch out forever.

She gazed steadily up at him.

"Malfoy Manor," she said.

He flinched.

She frowned.

"What's wrong?"

 _Don't think about it. She's ok._

"Nothing. Everything. I should have done something." He let out a lungful of air. "I am _so sorry._ "

Amusement flickered into life on Hermione's face.

"You have to stop apologising. You saved my life. Besides, it wasn't that bad,"

 _Hippogriff poop! You nearly DIED, you nearly… you're trying to piss me off. Merlin's saggy- why now? I am FAR too tired to argue. And my knee hurts. And also- don't think about it._

He squashed his outrage and raised an eyebrow.

She was actually smiling now.

"Well… yes, it was pretty awful. But we _did_ get out of there, and, you know…"

She gave him a look he was sure was supposed to be significant.

"You're going to have to spell it out for me."

She sighed and went over to the bed, pulling back the covers and slowly climbing in. Gently.

Ron found he was mentally cataloguing all the injuries he couldn't see.

She lay on her side, her head on his pillow. Brown eyes surrounded by dark shadows.

"You said a lot of very nice things when you thought I was unconscious,"

Ron blinked.

She was- smirking?

 _What on earth- oh. Right. THOSE things. Urgh, now I'm blushing. Um- wait a second._

 _She's…._

He let out a short laugh of disbelief.

Hermione yawned, and shifted slightly. Ron was suddenly very, very conscious of curves.

"Think you can say them again now that you know I'm awake?" she was pulling back the covers again, and looking up at him expectantly.

 _Odd timing. But… really? That's… wow._

He found himself nodding, and blushing and kind of half grinning like a fool. She didn't seem to mind. Just cuddled up to him as he climbed in next to her.

So small. So comfortable. So… Hermione.

She was still looking at him.

 _She really wants you to say it again. She really WANTS you to say it. Huh. Well, then…_

"So… things I said, hey?"

She nodded, a hand stroking up his shirt front. He reached for his wand, and turned out the light to buy himself a moment.

"You're too skinny," he said. He felt her glance up at him in surprise, "If you ate more lasagne this might not have happened. Why on earth did I let you come on this wild goose chase? If you weren't such a pig-headed, insufferable, know-it-all, we could never have tried this- and if I wasn't such a coward…."

She slipped her arm under his and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"You'd skip to the good bit already?"

He grinned in the dark.

"I love you so much. Please don't die."

Her face was somehow very close. Breath, and eyes, and lips.

"And the things you said at Shell Cottage?"

He frowned.

"When?"

"In the middle of the night- the first night."

"Oh," Surprising. He would have bet any money she'd been asleep then. Still…

"Everything is going to be ok. I'm not leaving ever ever again. You can't make me. And a bunch of other things to that effect."

She was smiling, centimetres away, maybe less.

"And?"

"And what?"

It was a bit distracting- she was all boobs and ribs and curves and he had his hand in her hair- _finally_ \- and what was she- _oh. That._

She had sort of nudged him with- well, her body.

He let out an exasperated breath.

"How is it I still find you sexy when you've just been tortured half to death? I must be the most depraved-"

He found he was grinning like a goon. She'd giggled.

"-degenerate moron in the-"

And she was _actually kissing him._

And then-

"I love you too, you daft git,"

 _I'm way too tired to know if I'm dreaming or not._

"And if you ever think about leaving, ever, ever again, I want you to remember I just spent a year studying the blackest of the blackest of the most awful magic ever invented. And I'm the most brilliant witch Hogwarts has seen in a century,"

 _Not dreaming!_

Ron snorted.

"Dark arts, huh? And you think _I_ have a jealous, possessive streak-"

And she was kissing him again.

 _Best ever ending to the worst ever day…_


End file.
